Saturday morning, I called our pediatrician's office. I am so thankful that their office sees sick kids on Saturdays and Sundays in the mornings. I was even lucky that it was our very own pediatrician on call this weekend, so she was there. Tate's fever had spiked to about 102.5 overnight. He was fussy and upset in the morning and wasn't thrilled about eating. Like I said before I usually don't worry about fevers, but this was slightly higher and it had been persistent, only dissipating for at most 2 1/2 hours with analgesics. So off to the pediatrician we went. Imagine my surprise when she suggested it might be pneumonia given that he had had a cough for a few days which I had attributed to his seasonal allergies. So, she sent us to their lab there in the office for a blood test...pleasant :(. We left with instructions to treat this like a virus unless his CBC came back positive for pneumonia or he developed symptoms such as difficulty breathing, lingering productive cough. We were to return if the fever lasted past Sunday evening. The only other concerning symptom per our ped was that his throat seemed very erthemyatous yet she didn't think it was strep throat, so a throat culture wasn't done.
We made our way to my parents' house for the rest of the weekend in order to celebrate Father's Day with my daddy. I was absolutely exhausted as was Tate. It was a long day as he just didn't feel good. He wanted to be held alot and none of his toys really held his interest. We took a nice long nap together. The afternoon was uneventful if whining and sadness don't count as events. The night was long as he was still running a fever and had been all day. He woke up every other hour needing me to hold him...poor baby.
Sunday morning he and I made a pilgrimage to the grocery store, as he seemed in good spirits. His fever was hovering around 100, so I was thrilled. He was so happy to be out of the house as was I. Once back at my parents' his fever broke completely. I just knew we were on the mend. At 11:15am I was changing his diaper and noticed a rash in his groin area as well as some streaks on his upper thighs in the diaper area. A quick perusal of the rest of his body showed a full body rash excluding only his arms and legs. In my hopes that this was simply some sort of allergic reaction, I gave him his normal dose of benadryl for those types of occurrences and put him down for a nap. The rash dissipated quite a bit, and his fever was gone!! After I laid him down I became worried that he might have scarlet fever once I recalled the red throat from Saturday's visit to the pediatrician. Knowing that scarlet fever is simply strep throat and a rash I decided to call the on-call nurse and glean her thoughts. I was more concerned now; I wanted to start antibiotics as soon as I could if indeed this was scarlet fever. As the nurse went through her triage list she couldn't come up with a diagnosis (extremely nice woman). She suggested I could wait until Monday for normal business hours or I could go to a pediatric urgent care clinic. We discussed it and I ascertained that she thought I should take him in as soon as I could to have the rash looked at.
As I was on the phone, my father was holding little Tate in the bedroom as he was between the stage of sleep and awake having only napped 55 minutes. He was so sad; it was so obvious he was just miserable. But watching my father hold my beautiful son in his arms trying to comfort him touched me in ways I cannot express. It's not often I see my father with his guard down, so this was something special for me. He loves my baby so much, and I'm so very blessed to have had the opportunity to witness my father father someone.
My mother and I whisked Tate off to the urgent care clinic. Bless his heart, he was beside himself. Crying, whining, fussing...the works. We were in a room for evaluation before we knew it. The ER doctor had him cultured for strep, and the quick strep came back negative, so scarlet fever was ruled out for the time being. The culture was sent out for the 48 hour test to insure he wasn't just about to come down with strep. In the interim she diagnosed him as either having an allergic reaction to the virus he had or it was a viral rash. We returned my mom to her house and headed off to our house. My mother joined us later that evening as we knew Tate was going to be unable to go to school on Monday.
Once home, he seemed a little more content. Dinner was a disaster like all meals had become in the past 3 1/2 days. He threw a couple of really good tantrums which worried me because he just doesn't do that...was it just the start of the terrible 2s? or was he simply miserable? He was constantly saying 'teeth' and pointing to his mouth as well...no sign of the 2nd primary molars yet though.
I got him bathed, dressed and ready for bed. I put him in the crib while I cleaned out the tub and got all the bath toys picked up. I walked back into the room to get him to read stories when he said those fateful words....'I need med-cine.' I told him no he didn't, he didn't have a fever and he wasn't complaining about something hurting.
Little did I know.
An hour and a half later he woke up screaming and thrashing about. I gave him some ibuprofen as it was obvious something was bothering him...teeth? rash itching? just all over malaise? I put him in my bed and he drifted back to sleep after about 30 minutes. I joined him in bed a couple of hours later, praying for a somewhat restful night as I had to return to work the next morning. Thankfully my mother had come over to watch him this week.
Sunday evening was relatively uneventful though he woke up 2 more times. It was a little difficult to get him back to sleep each time, but he did sleep. Monday his rash was definitely more pronounced...covering his face, torso and neck. He stayed home with my mother and was definitely not a happy camper and lethargic. I worried all day at work, calling as often as I could to check on both of them. At 69 my mom is doing great, but an unhappy, sick, scared little almost 2 year old is challenging for anyone.
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| Tate's diaper preparation!! |
Two hours later screaming ensued. This time he was about inconsolable. Finally, he exhausted himself and went back to sleep in my bed. I climbed into bed around 1015pm. I was awakened by kicks to my back at 1120pm and crying and screaming. I tried holding him, rubbing his back, swaying with him in the bed. I gave him ibuprofen and tried singing to him. Nothing was working. We walked the floor like I did when he was an infant. No real comfort. I retrieved the loveys and pacifier and sat with him in the glider, pulled the comforter up over us and just rocked and sang. Amongst hiccups and sniffles he drifted in and out of sleep for about an hour. As I held my sweet boy who was so miserable I was beside myself. He has yet to have his MMR vaccine. I was holding off as I thought it was just too much medicine for such a tiny person at the tender age of one. And yes I was/am concerned about the possibility of it being a trigger for autism...not the cause, but I believe it can trigger something to go off. And last year when Tate was turning one he had his ear infections, ear tubes, and all of his allergic reactions started occurring. I simply did not want to tax his body any further. I had always spaced out his vaccines, so I was delaying this one. And now I wondered did my sweet, sweet baby have the measles.
He had the dry cough during the nights, he was complaining his teeth hurt (possibly the Koplik spots I couldn't see?), the terrible red rash and fever. All he was missing, in my opinion, was the conjunctivitis. And my guilt was intense. I felt like the worst mother EVER. My fears and concerns probably unnecessary may have caused my baby to catch a disease that has been just about eradicated. My need to be so ridiculously in control of his little life was causing him pain. As I rocked him I was so upset I couldn't even cry. This little boy I waited my whole life to have was miserable and I couldn't console him. We were both miserable. We slept and rocked in our glider for 3 hours. And I prayed.
Finally, I crawled back into bed with him after he woke the last time around 215am and we slept until 530ish. He woke furious. Tantrums in the bed. Tantrums on the floor. Tantrums downstairs in the kitchen. Nothing made him happy. He wanted cheerios, but not the way I presented them. He wanted milk but not the way his grandmother offered it to him. And it continued. Now I was really scared. And I had to go to work. He had never thrown tantrums like this before...was it because he was in so much pain or was it that he's almost 2? Or was it an awful combination of them both. I realized my mother was panicked about staying home with him alone. I had her call my father and ask him to come join her for the day. Meanwhile Tate vacillated between extreme upset and extreme calm with his loveys and pacifier. We finally got him calm for what seemed like would be an extended period of time, and I finally had to leave. I was numb with worry, fear and hating to leave my precious boy when he was so out of sorts knowing that he really needed me.
I won't mention how work went. Needless to say it was a long, bad day. It's awful when you want to be somewhere else every. single. second. When you are helpless to help your child. And when you work in a place where you don't have alot of support it's just worse. Thank goodness my best friend was already scheduled to bring her children in for a check-up that morning. Just seeing her helped me stay the course. Her concern for Tate and for me kept me going throughout the day. And I must say the support I received from my family and friends via FB...some whom I've known forever and some I've never met (other wonderful SMCs)...was unbelievable. So grateful for them all. They all had prayers up for us.
I got Tate an appointment with our regular pediatrician that morning at 11am. My parents took him after a long morning of tantrums and tears. The final diagnosis was Roseola. Finally, an answer. Palliative treatment is all that's available. He had a slightly better afternoon after he napped for an hour and a half. By the time I was able to race home he was feeling better and eating cheerios. Still not drinking alot, but getting some nourishment, albeit carbs :).
Last night was a better night. He went down at 730pm due to his late nap after the doctor's visit and woke about 10pm refusing to lay back down in his crib, so into my bed he went. I joined him soon after, and he slept until 327am. I replaced loveys and pacifiers, and he didn't awaken me again until 608am. Now I don't know when he actually woke up, but blessedly he let me snooze a bit longer.
He stayed with my mom again today; my dad joined them later in the morning. The rash has lessened considerably, and we've only had one meltdown today apparently. My mom did say he did fall out a couple of times on the brink of a fit, looked around and decided better of it, so we're making progress. He was in great spirits when I got home, and we played and laughed and had a really nice evening.
My mom is staying one more day, and again my dad will come over tomorrow. He'll actually have little Tate to himself in the morning, so my mom can go to a doctor's appointment. These two love this child of mine, and the sacrifices they make to help me take care of him are boundless. I am so very lucky as is Tate to have them in our lives. I love them both more than they know.
So tonight, I'm beyond relieved. I don't think it's hit me yet how very exhausted and stressed out I am. Though I've had amazing help this past week I have borne the emotional trauma alone. That's one of the hardest things about being an SMC at least for me. My mother is fabulous and so great with Tate, but I know she was really almost beside herself with worry about him. If I had let on to her how I upset I was, well it just wouldn't have been the best choice. I have spoken to Christian, who is in Berlin still, and kept him up to date, and I think he knows how worried and upset I've been, but he's in Berlin. And sometimes the language can be a barrier with English not being his first language. I don't think he realized until Tuesday afternoon how serious things could have been and actually how poorly Tate was feeling.
But tonight I'm grateful and thankful. We have been held up by our village of love. Tate is on the mend. My heart will mend. We are all going to be just fine. Family, friends and God...we don't need anything else.
The power of prayer.
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| Sleeping the sleep of the exhausted! |
1 comment:
Oh, poor Tate and poor you! I'm so glad he's feeling better! I hope you both get some rest this weekend.
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